


When Desire Comes Calling

by bottseveryflavorbeans_jrayoh23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Draco is smug and angsty, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Happy Ending, Harry is irritated, Harry works at a bar, M/M, One Shot, Post Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Smut, Table Sex, Teasing, almost getting caught, past relationship, sex in public places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:39:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottseveryflavorbeans_jrayoh23/pseuds/bottseveryflavorbeans_jrayoh23
Summary: This is a one-shot based off of a prompt."I'll be right back with your drinks," Harry mumbled, avoiding Draco's gaze and thanking the gods that he pretended not to know him. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge Draco just yet anyway.Almost getting caught & biting.





	When Desire Comes Calling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Forgetticus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgetticus/gifts).



"I'll be right back with your drinks," Harry mumbled, avoiding Draco's gaze and thanking the gods that he pretended not to know him. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge Draco just yet anyway.

*

The rest of the night went on like that. Harry brought Draco drinks and Draco pretended not to know him. By the fourth Firewhiskey, Harry did start to wonder if maybe Draco really didn’t recognize him. 

It _had_ been three years since the war and two since Draco had moved away to France. Maybe he forgot what Harry looked like. No, more likely Draco wanted to pretend he didn’t know Harry and who could blame him after the way they parted.  
That being, Harry decided to follow suit and pretend like he wasn’t dying to ask Draco when he got back to London, or that he was at all bothered by being ignored.

*

The record player in the corner was skipping again. It was his bosses idea, the blasted thing. Said it would attract a younger crowd. All it did was play scratchy Weird Sisters songs and give Harry a headache, but it wasn’t his bar, so he dealt with it.

When the noise finally started to get on Harry’s nerves, he looked up from his task of wiping down glasses. He found the place was empty except for one blonde man who was slumped over in his booth, hand still gripping his untouched glass of firewhiskey.

From the back office, Harry could hear the snores of his boss. They rang through the air like the buzzing of a saw. When the boss was asleep, he was usually out for the night, so that left Harry effectively alone with Draco, who had not once acknowledged him in any significant way. Not even a knowing look.

“Excuse me?” Harry whispered, uneasily, as he approached the booth. He wasn’t sure if Draco was sleeping, or had just passed out from drinking. Really, either one meant that he would have to interact with him and that was becoming slightly less appealing as Harry felt a fire burning in his stomach.

“Mrrph,” came Draco’s muddled voice. He was slumped down in the booth with his head hanging, chin to his chest. Eyes still shut. His hair had fallen like a curtain around him. A very blonde, very shiny curtain, Harry thought.

“We’re closing for the night,” Harry said and he wrung the dish cloth in his hands as he waited for Draco to wake up. The fabric was rough in his hands, but it gave him something to focus on that wasn’t his nerves.

In that moment, dish rag gripped in his hands, he decided he wasn’t going to let Draco get away with acting like they didn’t know each other. Not after everything. Not after he spent so many nights wondering why he left.

“Closing?” Draco said and his head snapped up. For a moment, Harry could see Draco trying to place where he was and then there was a flicker of recognition in his pale gray eyes before he turned and captured Harry’s gaze. “Took bloody well long enough.”

Harry tilted his head to the side, forgetting his awakening frustrations, and asked, “Sorry, but what took long enough?”  
Draco smirked and then downed the glass of firewhiskey in one gulp. “Closing. This bar isn’t exactly the Three Broomsticks. I expected it would be empty _much_ sooner.”

“And why would you go to a bar only to wait for closing time?”

“So I could speak to you, of course.”

“Could have just owled me,” Harry snapped. He was getting irritated now. It was bad enough that Draco showed up after two years with no communication and proceeded to pretend they had never known each other. _Did he also have to be so smug, so very Draco Malfoy about it all?  
_

Standing up, Draco positioned himself so he was standing toe-to-toe with Harry, who felt this rush inside of him and suddenly he was breathless. It was like a walking outside in the winter. His lungs refused to work for a moment and when he finally pulled in a breath, it stung all the way down.

The record was still skipping the background, mixed in with the ragged snores of his boss. But those noises felt far way like in a dream. More immediately, Harry noticed the sound of the wind outside. A window was open near them letting in the crisp autumn air.

“This is more of an in person discussion,” said Draco. His voice sounded calm, but the deep breaths that he took sounded like Draco was struggling to breathe.

“Then why pretend you didn’t know me all night?” Harry managed to choke out the question. Each word felt rough in his mouth like he was spitting out sand.

Draco shrugged dramatically. He looked around the bar and when he seemed sure they were alone, he answered, “Working up courage.”

“Courage for what?”

“Courage to tell you,” Draco paused and after a deep breath, shouted, “that you are an absolute twat and that you broke my heart all those years ago. And that I almost got married last month, to an amazing man, but at the last minute I couldn’t go through with it because he wasn’t _you_.”

“Draco, I—,” Harry tried to speak, but it was difficult when Draco looked at him that way. Once such familiar eyes, now seemed unknowable. “I don’t know what to say to that.” 

“Don't _say_ anything,” Draco raised a hand between them. It practically rested on Harry’s chest because as Draco shouted, he moved in closer. “I didn’t come here to hear you say anything. I came to tell you that I am done caring about you. I can’t do it anymore.”

“I didn’t ask you to—“ Harry was getting angry now. Certainly, Draco wasn’t forgetting that he is the one who left. Not Harry.

“Didn’t you though?” Draco said the words like a question, but it was clear he did not intend to wait for an answer. Instead, he looked at Harry, fierce determination in his eyes, and continued. “When we were all alone in Grimmauld Place after the war? When you would slip into my bed at night and _beg_ me to wrap my hand around your cock and make you forget everything bad?”

As he spoke, Draco drew one fingertip along Harry’s jaw, his eyes trailing along with it. It was immobilizing, surprising, and felt unbearably good to feel Draco’s touch.

Each word, however, was like a dagger in Harry. He felt them land. Each one loaded with such bitterness like the subtlest of poisons. But his touch; his touch was like the first blossom of spring. A sign of hope amid the harsh winter of his words.

Harry licked his lips, suddenly a restless hunger awoke in him. His skin still burning from Draco’s touch. Words seemed so useless, but he tried to explain himself anyway. “That was—it was all so new to me. I was confused—“

“Yes, during the day you were confused,” Draco started. This time he dragged his knuckles across Harry’s cheek so tenderly that Harry felt desire bubbling within and had to suppress a gasp. He nearly moved away from the touch, but the look in Draco’s eyes was warning and one never runs from a predator.

Continuing, Draco dragged his knuckles down Harry’s neck. His chest. Finally, stopping at his waist. “Always pretending in front of your friends that you didn’t delight at the thought of my mouth around your cock. Always acting like you didn’t really know me. Like it was charity, you _letting_ me stay with you.”

Tears stung Harry’s eyes at the truth of those words. He had let everyone believe he was being charitable toward Draco. He let his fear rule him then. He let it drive away the only person he ever loved.

Harry’s voice was shaky when he spoke. He was all too aware of Draco’s hand still resting on his hip. “That’s not how I felt and you know it.”

“It’s how you behaved,” Draco growled, seizing Harry around the waist and pulling them together. “But that didn’t stop me from _moaning_ for you each night. Desperate to touch you.”

There were a million things Harry tried to say then, but in Draco’s arms, he felt unsteady. Whatever he managed to say would instigate Draco further and Harry would be no closer to explaining how deeply he regretted everything.

Rashly, Harry reached up, cupped Draco’s face in his hands and pulled him down into a kiss. At first, Harry was met with firm lips, but he pressed harder and then Draco opened up to him. His lips were warm and tasted like Firewhiskey. Harry thought he felt Draco shiver. “I’m sorry,” Harry said as they parted.

Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s; he was breathing hard. “I thought you cared about me, but when I heard you telling Ginny that you only humored my interest in you for fear of me becoming too upset…”

“You heard that?” Harry shut his eyes tightly and felt the first tear fall in a hot streak down his cheek.

“I died that day,” Draco groaned softly, desperate.

“I lied to her. To myself. For too long. The night you left, I was inconsolable and no one understood why until finally I told them. They all assured me I was better off, but I died that day, too.” Harry felt the words leave him like a sickness. Knowing the truth of them the moment they hit the air between their lips.

He had been asleep for so long, waiting. Hands seized him then. Grasping Harry’s hips. “Are you saying you—that you did love me then?” Draco’s voice barely a whisper.

“Yes.” And no sooner than the word left his mouth, Harry felt himself being lifted, spun, and placed on the table where only minutes ago Draco had been sleeping with a drink in his hand.

The wood was hard under Harry, but it was a welcomed position because Draco was straddled between his legs. Quickly, Harry wrapped his legs around Draco. He heard the man grunt in satisfaction.

He touched Harry then, with such tenderness. Hands sliding up Harry’s thighs. Gripping desperately at his hips, while Draco’s lips trailed wet kisses along Harry’s collarbone. Stopping every so often to nibble.

Through the haze of his own body heat, Harry became aware of the wind blowing again. It seemed to beg to be heard, just as Harry begged to be touched. It grew fiercer as Draco captured Harry in a languorous kiss, biting his lower lip hard enough that it stung, but not hard enough that desire didn’t ring through him like a gong.

“My boss,” Harry groaned, remembering they weren't entirely alone. “He is sleeping in the back.”

This admission did nothing to sway Draco’s eagerness. He simply grunted and kissed harry harder, pushing them closer together. Harry felt Draco, his hips, taut with ready energy. The realization sent Harry’s sense spiraling. Suddenly he didn’t care if the Minister for Magic walked in on them.

The rising urgency in Draco’s movements startled Harry, but also made him more eager for every touch as it burned through him. He felt Draco’s fingers rake down his back. Felt them struggle to undo his pants. Felt them wrap around him.

Such need in Draco—such hunger. Harry felt it with every stroke. He felt it pulsing inside him.

Pleasure filled him. It rose like lava from the depths of a volcano. Such need in Draco—such hunger. Harry felt it with every stroke. He felt it pulsing inside him. Pleasure filled him. It rose like lava from the depths of a once dormant volcano. It burned through him—white hot.

He felt the desire spreading out wide, scorching; touching his fingers and his toes, which curled in pleasure every time Draco slid his finger over the tip of his cock. The sensation nearly sending him over the edge.

Then, as if to torture him, Draco slowed his pace to an almost unbearable slowness. His fingers taking time to glide over every inch of Harry’s cock. So long Harry had dreamed of these hands; all over him. Slowly, painstakingly coaxing the pleasure from him.

Harry pleaded with Draco. Letting out a strangled cry that sounded almost like please. He heard Draco let out a small, satisfied laugh and then he staring stroking faster; still occasionally sliding his finger over the tip.

Each stroke brought him closer and closer still. He felt it at the brim—ready. His cock throbbed in anticipation. It spilled out hot.

In that moment, Harry heard the wind raging so much that it shook the open window. The noise startled him and he snapped his eyes open. Draco was watching him. A pleading look in his eyes.

Instead of speaking, Harry moved up and captured Draco in a fevered kiss. He tried to make that kiss say everything he never had. That he was desperately in love with Draco. That he yearned for him every night. Missed the feel of his toned body, slick with sweat, grinding against his own.

In response, Draco moaned into Harry’s mouth and Harry pulled him down on top of him. The wooden tabled creaked under their shared weight, but Harry arched up into Draco anyway.

The friction of grinding his hips into Draco’s had him burgeoning with desire once more. Deft hands were undoing Draco’s pants and sliding them down so the heat of their groins met.

Harry gripped hard at Draco’s hips and controlled the pace. Draco shivered under his grasp, but followed eagerly. Every time he moaned, Harry kissed him. On the mouth. On the neck. Drinking in the sound of his strangled moans like honeyed-wine.

Arching up, Draco’s muscles tightened under his shirt. Harry watched, aroused, as he caught a glimpse of Draco’s shirt clinging to him; slick with small trails of sweat all the way down to where their bodies met.

Flinging his head back in pleasure, Draco’s eyes were clenched shut, but his mouth hung open in a delicious near-agony way that told Harry that Draco was on the edge. And Harry wanted to taste him.

With a few strangled moans from Draco, Harry managed to flip their positions so he was looking at the aching mess that was Draco’s cock. Taking it in his mouth, Harry heard Draco breath out a sigh.

As he focused on his rhythm, Harry heard a symphony of sounds around him. The quiet skipping of the record player. The buzzing of his still snoring boss. The soft whisper of the wind. And the strangled cries of Draco.

Each cry found Draco’s hands gripping more firmly to Harry’s shoulders. The pain shot through Harry, but he ignored it as Draco arched up into him. He tasted the sweet-saltiness of Draco’s pre-come and savored it.

Greedily, Harry sucked. He licked. He cupped Draco’s balls. He swallowed Draco until he felt himself gagging. He wanted to take in all of Draco. To savor every bit of him. To erase the time they had been apart and replace it with the memory of his mouth, sucking and lapping, around Draco’s cock.

The more eagerly he worked Draco’s erection, the louder Draco’s moans became. His ragged, desperate moans rang through the empty bar. They rang through Harry. They were blossoming. Growing outward, like ivy, taking over all the surrounding space.

For a moment, Harry thought Draco’s strangled cries would wake his boss, but was quickly distracted by Draco thrusting up into his mouth. The absolute abandon of that moment ignited Harry’s lust once more. He felt the heat pooling in his groin.

Then he tasted the salty sweetness of Draco’s release.

Panting, the pair of them fumbled off the table and redressed themselves as awkwardly as two virgins. It was uncomfortable to pull his pants up over his renewing erection, but Harry did it anyways because he noted that Draco’s face was flushed pink in what seemed to be embarrassment.

“Not exactly what I expected when I came here tonight,” Draco said. He crossed his arms over his chest and bit his lip. There were red marks on his neck that were starting to turn purple. He looked so closed now, even though moments ago he was open and begging.

“I sort of _love_ the unexpected,” Harry smiled and reached for Draco’s hand. He brought it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle. He kissed and kissed until he heard Draco sigh in pleasure. A faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

Then from behind the bar, Harry heard a noise that could only mean his boss woke up. Draco looked at Harry wonderingly. It felt so good to be standing with him, their hands intertwined, so before his boss could make it to the front of the bar, he winked at Draco and disapperated them both back to Grimmauld Place. 


End file.
